Heartless (Immortal Enemies 1)

Would she receive a dozen emails in the next two minutes, asking her to act more professionally, but also less professionally, and oh, yes, could she keep doing exactly what she was doing and also change everything? Don’t get her started on the texts.

Nick—screen name Nicobra—fought back with merciless precision, a well-placed kick sending her across the battlefield. On impact, her magic hat tumbled across the forested terrain. One of four power bars vanished.

He purred through her headset, “How about you choke on my balls first, Cookie.”

Oh, no he didn’t. “I tried, remember? But yours are the size of Tic Tacs.” Careful. There were lines. What she dished, he had a right to serve back to her. Plus, he wasn’t worth the hassle she’d face with her sponsors.

Though Cookie hated Nick, she loved her job. I mean, come on! Companies paid her to stream video games and be on camera. As a secret side hustle, she accepted jobs as a digital hit woman, charging other gamers to annihilate their competitors within the game world.

Once, Nick had tried to hire her to take out herself, never knowing who seethed behind the screen.

Who wouldn’t love her job? What’s more, she needed it. Born with a severely damaged heart, she’d undergone various surgeries, countless medical tests, numerous trials and a plethora of experimental drugs in her twenty-six years; the bills had stacked.

“Did you know you’re the worst girlfriend I’ve ever dated?” Nick asked, unwilling to let the trash talk end. “You beat the cheater and the thief. Congrats.”

Ouch. For those watching her face rather than the game, Cookie let a sugary sweet smile bloom, as if Nick had just issued a sweet compliment. Never let an opponent see you rattled.

Your hot spots became an eternal target and offered endless ammunition. Nick proved this theory every time they interacted. During their yearlong relationship, he’d discovered her deepest vulnerability—rejection. Now he liked to poke and prod until she snapped.

Game face on. “Is someone feeling defensive about his size?” She tsk-tsked. “Don’t worry, baby boy. Size doesn’t really matter. Since the beginning of time, women have lied about preferring a man with girth. The smaller the better, we say.”

Nick missed a series of punches, allowing Cookie to reclaim her hat. Had his confidence gotten the stinky boot? Too bad, so sad.

On the right side of her screen, comment bubbles blew up. Key words jumped out, the messages behind them clear. Drags on Cookie...drags on women in general...drags on men...a death threat...a threat of rape...support...another death threat...a death threat against anyone who supported her.

Whatever. She activated the “elderseed,” charging her hat to full capacity in seconds and head-butting the prince, cracking his skull. Yes! Cookie lived for blood and gore. On a screen, of course, only a screen. Although, yes, okay, sometimes she envied her avatar. Every so often, she even wondered if she herself were maybe kinda sorta...murder curious. But only every so often.

Oh, she would never kill anyone in real life. She wasn’t a psychopath or anything like that. Mostly, she enjoyed force-feeding bad guys a heaping helping of justice. On screen and off. And yeah, she’d always been this way.

After her parents’ acrimonious divorce, she’d stayed with her mother most of the year and her father on holidays. As the two created new families, she’d lost herself in Court TV and video games.

At eighteen, she’d packed up, moving from Dallas, Texas, to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, to work for the company who’d created a multilevel game called The Fog A.E. The Forest of Good and Evil.

Each level offered a different experience. As a whole, the game featured fairy tales and their vast casts of characters, all mixed together in the magical lands. Enchantia. Rhoswyn. Loloria. You could design and build your own kingdoms, battle others for theirs, or compete in tournaments for special prizes.

Even after Cookie had branched out, leaving the company to play on her own, she’d chosen to remain in Oklahoma. She’d forged a family here. A real one. Weird, sure, but beloved.

Once, Nick had been part of it. In a single hour, they’d gone from being a happy couple in life and supportive teammates in the game, to enemies in life and foes in the game. He’d wanted to do something, she’d wanted to stay home. A fight erupted, and he’d blamed the entirety of their problems on Cookie. She never wanted to leave the house. She ignored him. The sex sucked because he had to be too careful with her. In other words, she had more online followers.

On his way out the door, he’d told her, “Fix yourself before the next guy comes along, yeah?”

That one still burned. In the game, she landed a particularly nasty blow. Just not nasty enough. Dang it. Time was running out. In twenty...nineteen...eighteen seconds, the hat would time out. If Cookie failed to drain Nick of his life essence by then, the match was as good as lost.